


Some Like It Hot

by Toft



Category: MythBusters RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, First Time, M/M, Romance, Temperature Play, Trolls, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 19:51:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toft/pseuds/Toft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jamie's a troll with a special effects business who keeps his workshop cold. Adam's a firesprite looking for work. Their love is complicated by temperature differences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Like It Hot

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to thingswithwings for her quick and thoughtful beta! Also for her encouragement throughout the writing process :)
> 
> And thank to singlecrow for the title!!

"Hey!" A tough-looking woman with tattoos and a bandana emerges through the open doorway to, Adam assumes, the shop. Adam's been rocking his chair back on its back legs, and now he brings it down too hard onto all four legs with a crash, and winces. At least he didn't catch his tail under it.

"Sorry. Hi! I'm, uh -" he gestures at the office. "Interview."

She raises an eyebrow. He follows the line of her eyes down to the floor, slightly behind him. His tail is twitching, slapping against his calf. For a moment his stomach tightens up, but she just says, "Nervous?" with a little smile - sympathetic, though, not mean - and he relaxes. Well, not all the way, but some. 

The truth is, he is a little nervous. He isn't usually, but this job is perfect for him – special effects, close to his home, and starting in time for his to pay his rent this month – and everyone says that Jamie Hyneman's kind of a hardass. Adam's not prejudiced, he's worked with trolls before, albeit mostly back when he was shelf-stacking at Walmart and trying to save up enough money to get to New York and support himself for a few months while he tried out for auditions. There are still some dicks around who talk slowly to trolls like they're stupid, but it was pretty obvious pretty quickly to Adam that most of the ones that can stay lucid in the northern California summer were smarter than him once they turned down the air conditioning a few notches. And Hyneman's got a reputation.

The woman grins. She seems cool, Adam thinks. Man, it's only going to make it worse when he doesn't get this job. "He's a pussycat. You'll be fine."

The door opens quietly. Jamie Hyneman's standing in the doorway, filling it up all the way to the top.

"Come on in," he says. Adam grabs his portfolio and follows him in.

He's... shorter than Adam was expecting, barely over six feet - he could probably pass as human, in some lights - but there's still the impression of solid lifting power in his big shoulders, chest and thighs. Plains troll, not mountain, Adam decides. He's probably from Ohio or Indiana or somewhere like that, pure rust belt. His hands are fucking huge. As he picks up and leafs through Adam's portfolio in silence, Adam has the impression of a mountain being very, very careful not to snap a tree in half. It's kind of intimidating, and also weirdly hot. He isn't nervous very often, and it does peculiar things to his brain.

At the end of the interview, after Adam has babbled through his spiel and gone through his portfolio, Hyneman looks Adam up and down and says, "You can start Monday at nine. You can call me Jamie. If you break my stuff, I'll fire you."

He moves to open the door. The door handle has been recently re-welded, Adam notices. Then Hyneman - Jamie - stops, and turns slowly and looks behind Adam. He hasn't said anything at all yet about Adam's tail, which usually keeps his employers busy trying not to look at it and then figuring out how to let him go for 'not fitting in', or, as Adam's come to think of it, being Eldrich While Working. Or, okay, accidentally setting the shop on fire. But that only happened the one time. 

But Jamie's definitely looking at it now, and the stupid thing starts thrashing from side to side, like it's happy to be noticed. Then he says, totally deadpan, "There's something you need to know. We're an equal opportunity employer. You make any cracks about any of the other people working here, you're out."

Adam blinks at him. Is he joking? 

"Uh," he says finally, "I'm hardly one to throw stones."

Jamie absorbs this, then says, "I keep the shop cool. You going to need heat packs or something?"

"Um," Adam said, and swallowed. He'd been hoping the guy hadn't noticed that he was shivering, but now he's still trying to move beyond _you can start Monday_. "I'm not sure, actually. They kept ILM pretty cold because of the lights, and I mostly just wore extra sweaters when I wasn't on set. I think I'll be okay? But, uh, I may need to step out from time to time to reheat? I'll stay later to make up for it," he adds, hastily.

"Okay," Jamie says after a minute. "See how you get on. I don't want you passing out or doing anything stupid, though. If you get too cold, go get warm."

"Okay," says Adam.

"See you Monday."

As he walks through his new place of work, he feels warmer than he has in weeks.

*

On his first day he's assigned to Grant Imahara, a small guy with an specialization in robotics, a shock of black hair and a wide, dorky smile that shows his fangs. Adam likes him immediately. He's buried in learning the setup and catching up on the current projects and clients for most of the first week, so he barely gets to know Kari before she leaves for maternity leave, but he spends a day or two with Scottie, learning to work with cars, and he likes her too. He doesn't actually spend all that much time with Jamie until the end of that first week, when Jamie shows up as Grant is showing him how to rewire a transistor, and stands watching them for a while.

"Hey, Adam," he says, when they've finished the delicate work. He nods, and Adam follows him outside.

"New project's come in. You're with me starting tomorrow."

"Uh, okay," says Adam. "Great!"

"Go take a break," Jamie says. "You look cold."

Adam opens his mouth, and shuts it again. He _is_ actually kind of cold. He goes outside into the balmy day and hops up and down for a while.

*

Very quickly Adam realizes that Jamie really _is_ slow, but that it's a slowness born of precision; Jamie goes through every task so methodically, and it drives Adam _crazy_. After about two hours the intimidation wears off and he starts getting in Jamie's face, not entirely intentionally, pushing to see what he'll do, even when it would be sensible to just shut his mouth. Jamie doesn't so much push back as stay totally immoveable. It's seriously annoying. They get into a yelling match on day three over the catapult rig.

"I just want to try it a _different way_ , Jamie."

"I like it this way."

"But we're getting a four-foot recoil! We can't afford that kind of margin!"

"Sure we can. There's a whole football field."

"The four point five elastic will totally eliminate the snap-back."

"It frays too easily. It's not safe."

"It's not _pretty_ , Jamie, we can make it look so much better."

"It doesn't have to be pretty. It has to work."

"It's for a movie, of course it has to be pretty! I don't even believe this."

Adam fumes for a moment. Then he has a thought. "Hey, what if we used a double backstay to control the recoil?"

Jamie blinks once, twice. "Sure, we can try that. It won't be pretty, though."

"But you just said –"

Adam stops when Grant snickers behind him, and notices Jamie's mouth is quirked under his moustache. He takes a deep breath, and realizes he just yelled at his boss, and that he isn't about to be fired. His blood is running hot and he feels energized, excited. For the first time it occurs to him that he likes Jamie.

*

Jamie's first impression of Adam Savage is that he's bright. The hair on his head and tail is bright red, his eyes aren't bright blue exactly but they're sort of shining all the time, like everything is the most exciting thing Adam has ever seen, and he's just a bright guy, like, smart bright. But there's also something about him that makes him seem _shinier_ than everyone else. Jamie wonders about it, and can't put his finger on it; maybe it's the fact that Adam throws off so much heat that when it's really cold in the shop, the air kind of shimmers around him. He also moves too fast, he talks too fast, he bounces on his heels, he twitches his tail, and he eats all the time to make up for all those calories he's burning. Also he likes to show off by lighting the bunsen burner with his tongue. It's annoying. 

Despite all that, they fall into working together almost immediately. There's a lot of work to do after Kari goes on leave at the end of Adam's first week - one of the reasons that Jamie was keen to hire quickly - and although that means that the shop doesn't have the staticky smell of magic all the time, Jamie almost misses the little flocks of metallic, glinting butterflies made of candy wrappers that would fly around the shop every time she got bored at lunch. He doesn't miss sweeping them up once their magic had run out, though. 

What he has instead is working with Adam, hour after hour, fighting with him and making him think better. They touch accidentally sometimes, brushing hands when they pass tools or bumping into each other when they lean over to reach something, Adam's tail catching on Jamie's ankle if he turns unexpectedly, and it always startles him, how warm Adam's skin is, like he's been lying in the sun for hours. If they stand at the same workbench, Jamie can feel the heat radiating off him. Like heat usually does, it makes him feel stupid and kind of dizzy, like his mind slows down when Adam comes too close. Each day when Adam goes home for the night, Jamie thinks he can feel his heartbeat even out and his thoughts become calmer as his overheated brain cools down. Once, he takes his own temperature in the bathroom during the day, just out of curiosity. It's actually normal, bang on seventy nine degrees Farenheit, but Adam brushed Jamie's back when he reached for a screwdriver and grabbed Jamie's wrist to pull him across the shop and touched Jamie's shoulder to punctuate a point, and Jamie's sweating. He thinks the thermometer must be broken. 

*

Adam used to play the ice cube game with his friends, like pretty much every firesprite teenager in the history of ever. Ice was weirdly unavailable while he was growing up, because they didn't have it in the house, of course, and he never even saw snow before he moved north to New York, so they could only play with it at house parties with people from school. In Adam's mind ice still has this kind of allure of the forbidden, all mixed up with underage drinking, first-time pot-smoking and making out in other people's parents' bedrooms. It was a cool party trick. They'd put the tiny blocks on their tongues, shut their mouths and see who could keep it in the longest, until steam was pouring out of their noses and, if they were really badass, their ears. It was awesome, even if it usually gave him a fucking terrible headache, because even when his teeth were aching and his nose had begun to hurt, he'd wait thirty more seconds than was sensible, because he'd be riding that pain, laughing hysterically at the steam curling up out of his ears and wanting to know what would happen next - would his tongue go numb? would his eyes start watering? It sort of made up for being allergic to pot.

He doesn't do that shit anymore, because he is a grown man and has to get to work on time in the morning, and after he was nineteen or so getting that cold started to give him brutal migraines. But he's only been a few weeks on the job before it becomes undeniable that he kind of wants to have sex with Jamie Hyneman, and just the idea of that is kind of giving him a headache.

Adam's working longer and harder than he ever has before, simultaneously frustrated and fascinated by Jamie's style of working. They fight, they get stuff done, and Adam's basically decided Jamie's cool, that he's worth respect, that he wants to impress him with his work. Then, one evening, they put the finishing touches to the welds on the biggest section of the rig - it's basically all bells and whistles from this point on - and Jamie claps his big, strong, cool hand over Adam's shoulder and says, "Good job, Adam," and Adam goes weak at the knees. 

After that, trying to get Jamie hot under the collar starts to take on slightly more significance. He just wants Jamie to lose his temper in that slow, strong way of his, pin Adam against the work bench and - so, yeah. He wants to have sex with him. Sometimes he brushes up against him just to feel Jamie's cold skin, to give himself the shivers. Occasionally he jerks off thinking about it, about what it would feel like, Jamie's big, cool hand on his dick. But it's not a big deal, really. He's been into his bosses before. It's sort of a thing for him, actually - he's wondered before if he should worry about it? But he doesn't. So he has an authority kink. No big deal. What's a big deal is if it starts to mess with his work.

It would almost be easier if this were a short-term contract and he could just enjoy the fantasies consequence-free, but he loves the work, and Jamie's good at handling the contracts (probably because all their clients are afraid of him), so they don't get nearly as much shit from the employers as he's used to, and the longer time goes on, the luckier he feels. At first he thinks it's only him and Jamie who are Eldrich, and he can't work out who he was talking about with his heavy-handed non-discrimination policy speech, but then he starts to notice stuff - Grant's blood bags in the fridge, the little corner where Kari keeps her focus gems, and then Tory comes back from vacation, and his hooves are pretty obvious, even if he wore pants to cover the hair, which he doesn't except when he's welding. He thinks that Scottie's the one human in the shop, until she stomps in after the summer long weekend looking like someone ate her puppy.

"How'd the Grand High Council go, princess?" Tory yells.

"Kiss my wyvern ass, Belleci," she snarls, and smoke curls out of her nostrils. Tory jumps back with a yell and slaps a spark off his hairy thigh.

"Hey," Jamie says. "Tory, back off. Scottie, go outside and cool down."

Adam sees them later, talking quietly in the parking lot, Scottie scuffing her foot and kicking tires, the August sun winking off Jamie's sunglasses. Adam watches, riveted, as Jamie shifts in the heat, scratches under his beret a couple of times, but just stands there in the sun for twenty minutes, letting Scottie talk herself out. It must be thirty degrees out there. Adam didn't even have to wear a sweater today. Eventually, Scottie exclaims something, and they come back inside. Adam ducks away from the window, but he makes up a glass of iced water for Jamie, not even waiting to put on his gloves first. Jamie looks at his bare hand holding the glass, but doesn't comment. As he reaches to take it, their eyes meet and their fingers brush, and a bolt of want sears Adam through and through. He's fucked.

"Thanks," Jamie says thickly, and he drinks the whole thing down with intense concentration as Adam watches, helpless. Then he empties the ice cubes into his beret and puts it back on his head, water immediately trickling down his face, so that Adam breaks into sniggers despite himself. The way Jamie's moustache twitches when Adam snorts makes Adam think Jamie did it intentionally – maybe to make him stop staring, or to make him laugh, or to distract him from what Jamie does next, which is sit down, lean his head back against the fridge and close his eyes. That sends a pang through Adam, and he kind of wants to touch Jamie, maybe crawl into his lap, except he wouldn't exactly help with the cooling down. He leaves him in peace, instead.

"Is he okay?" Scottie whispers. "Shit, I can't believe he just stood out there, I totally forgot how hot it was."

"I think he's fine," Adam says. "What's up?"

"Oh," Scottie scowls. "I had to go to this family reunion this weekend. They're all such assholes. It's my - you know what a _wyvernalia_ is? Well, never mind, it's my thirtieth birthday soon, which is a big deal, and my family want me to, like, enter my name into the breeding registry and get matched with some trust fund baby from the West Hollywood pod so we can make beautiful, upwardly mobile eggs together and keep the money in the family."

She takes a vengeful gulp of orange juice.

"Shit." Adam grimaces in sympathy. That's one thing to be said for firesprites; any old money disappeared in the industrial revolution, and most family expectations revolve around the best way to make coleslaw. 

She eyes Adam. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Sure," says Adam, surprised. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well," Scottie says, raising an eyebrow, "The boss has been riding you pretty hard."

"If only," Adam says, without thinking, then feels his face flame up as Scottie chokes and snorts orange juice through her nose. She hustles him into the other room. Adam wonders if Jamie heard. Christ, he has to get his inside voice under control.

"Do you have a _crush_ on _Jamie_?" Scottie demands. 

"I - no," Adam lies. "Yes. Maybe."

Scottie gives him a long, hard look. He spreads his arms wide, tries to laugh it off. "Maybe it's Stockholm Syndrome."

Scottie thumps his shoulder. "Look, don't mess Jamie around, okay? He's a good guy."

Adam gapes. Shit, he shouldn't have said anything. Scottie's not making fun of him, she's protective. Of Jamie. It makes him feel weird, sort of defensive. He only wants to bang the guy, for Christ's sake, but now it's like he's trapped in the middle of _Meet the Parents_ , and it makes him want to measure up.

"Hey, I know he's a good guy. I wasn't going to - I'm not going to _do_ anything about it, he's my boss."

"I don't mean that you're not good enough for him, or whatever," Scottie says, although Adam gets the distinct feeling that that's exactly what she meant, "But, you know, he's a really good guy. A lot of people don't see that. You know, when I first started working here, I was going through all this shit with my family, and I didn't disclose. I can pass pretty well for full human, and it pissed off my folks even more, so." She shrugs. Adam raises his eyebrows. "So, my parents found out where I was working, and they called him from LA and told him."

"Oh my god!"

"Yeah. Some shit about workplace safety, which was true, but they're actually just racist, you know? They wanted him to kick me out. Anyway, Jamie called me into his office, and guess what he did?"

Adam is staring, at this point. His life is so much less complicated than he thought it was. "Ripped you a new one and then asked if you could weld with your breath?"

Scottie laughs, and the tension's broken. "He said, 'I'm gonna have to switch your health plan,' and he gave me a shitload of forms. Then he asked me about the welding."

Adam thinks about this. He gets it, what she's telling him. It fits with what he's seen of Jamie already. It makes it even more complicated. He didn't really want to like him more than he already does. "Can you? Do the welding thing?" he asks finally.

She laughs. "Oh, yeah, but not like this. Only in my dragon form. But I really crash afterwards, so he doesn't get me to do it that often, plus the building isn't big enough. Anyway." She slaps Adam on the back. "Just be careful, okay?"

"Is he even gay?" Adam blurts out, then immediately wishes he could take it back. He doesn't want to know, because he wasn't serious, he hasn't even been thinking about this as a serious possibility, but now it's out there and real, and he's not going to be able to stop thinking about it. 

"Oh," Scottie hesitates. "Yeah, I think so. I just assumed - probably? I don't actually know. I think Grant said someone he knew saw him in a gay bar downtown once? Look, I'd better get back to work, I don't want to get into any more shit with Jamie."

After trying to decide for a while if it'd be weird to just go by the kitchen to see if Jamie's okay - is he being obvious? He feels like he's being obvious. But maybe it's just normal, friendly co-worker behaviour? Is it normal behaviour for co-workers who have a kind of antagonistic relationship? - he decides he can pretend he's just getting coffee, and goes by the kitchen. Jamie is still sitting there. His skin looks kind of chalky, but that might just be the neon light.

"You okay?" Adam says. His hands itch. He taps at the coffee machine. "You need anything?"

"Stop fidgeting," Jamie says, without opening his eyes. "You'll break that thing."

"Seriously, you don't look so good, do you need some ice or something?"

"I'll be fine as soon as you stop bothering me," Jamie snaps.

Adam stomps out, fuming. Jamie's an asshole. He doesn't know what Scottie was thinking.

*

Adam goes on dates. He's not opposed to dating. He moves around, he bounces from job to job and project to project, barely stays in even the same hobby for more than six months at a time, but he tries to meet people, if only to satisfy his sister, who worries that he'll never settle down. He goes out for drinks and to a board games café with a quirky, fast-talking poly chick with red-rimmed glasses and piercings who he met at a model show, until she gets re-involved with an ex and says, very nicely, that she thinks she doesn't have the energy to keep up with Adam too. He goes to gay clubs sometimes, but although he likes the noise and the music Adam doesn't like the loneliness of those crowds, and knows his body doesn't measure up to all the gym bunnies cruising for sex. He feels too old and too nerdy, is afraid of his tail attracting the wrong kind of attention. In New York, he has an old friend from drama school that he meets for _Babylon 5_ and late-night drinking sessions that end in tumbling into bed more often than not. He always kicks Adam out at 7am and says, "Let's do this again in a few months when things aren't so crazy, huh?" When Adam moves across the country, they exchange a few friendly emails, but that's it. Adam misses the sex, but doesn't miss him. He tries updating his OkCupid profile once, but gets stuck on the questions and, eventually, distracted by something else. Story of his life.

He thinks about it again that night, opens his OkCupid profile and stares at it for a while. The information's all out of date. Interested in: Men and Women. Location: New York. Occupation: Set Designer, Artist. Looking for: Friendship, Dating, Casual Sex, Long Term Relationship. After a while, he closes the browser and goes back to working on his _Blade Runner_ gun. He guesses the problem is that he doesn't know what he's looking for.

*

Jamie sleeps it off, and he feels fine the next day, except for a cold tightness in his throat when he thinks about Adam. He thinks about Adam most mornings, but today it's making him drag his feet instead of want to get into work earlier. He knocks a beaker of water all over his book, and accidentally wrenches the handle off his bedroom door again. He's all off his game. When he gets into work, Adam looks up from the lathe and he looks like he's about to smile, but then he looks down and away. Jamie tries to open his mouth to say something, but instead he goes to his office. He fills out order forms for an hour.

At noon he goes out to get his smoothie from the fridge; he stands in front of the open door for a moment, enjoying the cold blast. There are four 500ml bags of Grant's blood substitute, a pig's heart, a cherry-flavoured yoghurt, a bag of celery sticks and an unopened slab of cheese. The box of Adam's heat packs is shoved under the table next to the fridge. He reaches down and straightens it. 

"Oh hey, can you get me one while you're down there?" Adam says behind him. Jamie jumps. "Sorry," Adam mutters, and he reaches down and grabs one while Jamie's still thinking about it. He cracks it a couple of times, then shoves it up under his sweater. For a second, Jamie sees the white strip of skin above his belt before he tugs his undershirt down again. He looks up to find Adam watching him, and he feels his face begin to flush.

"Sorry," he says stiffly. Then he says, because he's been planning to, "I was rude to you yesterday."

Adam shrugs, and looks away.

"I had a headache. I get cranky when I have headaches."

"You shouldn't have stayed out in the sun like that," Adam says. "You could have asked her to come in, you know. You can't make stupid health choices then take it out on your frie - colleagues."

Jamie's chest tightens some more, and he thinks about saying that he can, because he's the boss. He wants to know why Adam didn't say 'friends'. But he's trying to be nice, and it _was_ dumb. He wants Adam to smile at him.

"I know. I said sorry."

Adam shifts, looks at his hands. He rubs at his chest where the heat pack is, and it crinkles under his sweater. "Are you feeling better today?"

Jamie figures they're done fighting. He relaxes a little. "Some."

"Think you can help me figure out what I'm doing wrong in these fuel coefficiency calculations? The answers keep coming out different."

"Sure," Jamie says. 

After an hour or so, Adam's back to normal, tapping his feet, poking Jamie's arm and brushing his shoulder up against him every so often as they work too close together, talking a thousand words a minute and laughing at his own jokes, and Jamie feels okay again. He feels good, even though he was having a shitty day up until now. He finds himself trying to think of things to say to make Adam smile or laugh, just to be sure the two of them are okay, and because he likes it, he missed it. He forces himself not to think about what he's doing. It's okay for him to like Adam, as long as he doesn't make a fuss about it. It's no big deal. He's trying to forget that all that time he was standing out in the sun, at the back of his mind somewhere he was thinking about Adam, wondering about how long it would take Jamie to get too warm, being close to him, and how long he could take it.

*

Jamie doesn't date. Back in Indiana, in the quarry commune, he did. Held hands a few times with girls in cars and at prom, sucked dick a few times with boys in the woods and behind sheds. It was hard to be queer at home, so he went as far away as possible. In San Francisco, it's easier, maybe too easy. Big dudes with hairy chests and leather pants look him up and down on the street in a way that makes him feel strange and a little angry, like they are seeing someone he doesn't recognize. He gets a lot of propositions, although with most of them he doesn't realize until much later. _Oh wow_ , he heard a couple of guys laugh once as he walked past. _He could dig in my quarry, you know what I'm saying? – Honey, he'd break your rocks for sure._ It was weird to realize that some people might want him because he was big and strong, because he could hurt them, that people might want that. Jamie broke a man's hand once, by accident, someone he liked, and he never spoke to Jamie again. Everybody is so small here, and people flinch away when he brushes by them in the store, in the streetcars, and sometimes they shiver. He doesn't touch people all that much, even when he wants to.

*

Hurricane Diane hits the coast, and the second-hand propellor they need for the Bell ad is grounded in Florida for nearly a week. They all have to put in double time in those last few days before the deadline, and at the end of it they're all beyond exhausted and into manic. They order pizza and eat it around a table in the office amid the blueprints and order forms. Adam has sawdust in his hair and he hasn't had time for a real shower in three days, so he seriously stinks.

"Dude, I am going to drink so much fucking beer," Tory groans, cracking his back. Then he fistpumps the air. "Yeah! Come on! Who's coming to Sandy's?"

"Guess the first round's on me," Jamie says. He doesn't sound happy about it, but he's sort of smiling. Adam has the weird, dangerous, push-pull feeling of seriously wanting to get drunk around the guy but _knowing_ it's a bad idea, and he's just about to force himself to say no, when Grant, who's gone into the other room to check his email (and also maybe to drink blood? He's really discreet about it), shouts, "Hey, oh my god, you guys! Kari had the baby!"

After that, not going out isn't an option. They pile into Jamie's pickup and Grant's car, then they pile into a booth at one of the grubby bars nearest the shop. It looks kind of nasty to Adam, but Tory swears the nachos are good, the beer is definitely cheap, and Adam's conscious, suddenly, of being the newcomer; he barely met Kari before she left and has never been to this bar before, where apparently they come often enough to have a favourite booth, so he keeps his mouth shut about the sticky formica table and the fingerprints all over the glasses. He also manoevres so that he's sitting as far away from Jamie as possible, just to be safe. But Jamie does buy the first round, and Scottie buys the second soon after, and Adam the third, and after a couple of bathroom breaks and shifts in table position, Jamie and Adam do wind up jammed in next to each other after all. It's warm in the bar, and alcohol always makes Adam flushed, so he's doubly aware of Jamie's body next to him, solid, enigmatic and radiating a cold that reels Adam closer, until their thighs are solidly pressed together under the table and his tail is practically curled around Jamie's ankle. He has to force himself not to look at Jamie to see whether he's noticed, if he cares, and he helps Grant build a tower with the coasters and some toothpicks as he gets tipsier and tipsier and tries to suppress his hard-on.

Soon Tory's telling some improbable story about a stage set he worked on for Cher where she tried to hire him for sex through her PA, and Scottie is banging on the table and going, "You are _full of shit_ , Bellecci," louder and louder, until Grant's laughing so much he's practically crying, and even Jamie's smiling into his beer (just the one, that he's still nursing). It's weird to see him outside the shop. He looks awkward, too big for the little booth, but not uncomfortable. Adam touches his bare wrist to get his attention, lets his fingers brush Jamie's skin for just a little too long.

"Hey, I'm getting up, can you let me out?" Adam murmurs.

Jamie looks at his wrist, then blinks at him. "Uh. Sure."

Before he's fully shifted out of the booth, Adam starts to climb over him; he stumbles over his own tail, half on purpose - wow, he has got to go home before he makes a total fool of himself - and for a glorious second he's practically in Jamie's lap, and Jamie's big, cool hand is on his hip, steadying him.

"You okay?"

Adam's mouth is dry, looking at him. He wants to lick the hollow of his neck. He laughs shakily. "Dude, I'm pretty drunk. I think I should go home."

"I'll drive you," Jamie says, low and sure.

"Uh," says Adam, hope flip-flopping in his stomach even as he knows he's drunk, exhausted, smelly, and probably pathetic. "No, it's fine, it's -"

Jamie slaps some money on the table. "I'm driving Adam home. Anyone else want a ride?"

There's a chorus of boos and waves. Scottie catches Adam's eye and raises an eyebrow. He ignores her, and they walk out of the pub together.

All the way home, Adam stares at the blurry red and white lights of the cars and thinks about inviting Jamie in.

"Can you get drunk?" he blurts instead, as they take Adam's turning off the freeway.

"Sure," says Jamie. His eyes are on the road. "Takes a lot, though. Beer doesn't work. Has to be spirits. Vodka works."

"Oh," says Adam. He shifts in his seat. He's feeling lightheaded, sort of floaty, and not in a good way.

"There's a granola bar in the glove compartment," Jamie says. "Eat it. You're hungry."

Adam laughs, helplessly, feeling warm and known and really completely screwed. He eats the granola bar, and does actually feel better.

*

"You going to be okay?" Jamie says, through the driver's window. Adam's keys are dangling in his hand. Last chance, he thinks, but he already knows he isn't going to say anything tonight. This just became something he wants so much that he has to think about it some more. Jamie's eyes are in shadow.

"Yeah, thanks. Thanks for driving me home, Jamie."

"See you tomorrow."

Adam expects Jamie to start the engine, but he doesn't, he just sits there. He seems like he wants to say something. Finally, he says, staring at the dashboard, "Good work this week."

"Thanks," Adam says, and watches the pick-up's tail-lights as it drives away.

Later that night, still a little drunk, Adam runs his hands under cold water until they're nearly numb, then slathers his icy fingers with lube and fingerfucks himself, jerking off with his other hand and braced with his tail against the bed. It's so cold that he doesn't process it as cold, just intense sensation almost like pain but not quite, and the angle's bad and he gets a cramp in his wrist but he thinks about grinding down onto Jamie's Hyneman's cock and comes in under a minute, sparks behind his eyes. 

"Jesus," he gasps, staring up at the ceiling. He wipes his hands on a kleenex then shoves them under his arms to warm them up. "Fuck."

*

Things change after that; something has shifted between them, and Adam has the feeling that they're circling around each other slowly, getting closer and closer, like an unstable orbit. They're headed for a collision, he can see it coming in the slow way Jamie looks at him and the way he can't stop his tail from brushing Jamie's calf every five seconds when they stand close together. It makes his mouth dry and his heart pound, and he just wants to push, to get it over with. He feels like Jamie won't make the first move, because Adam's his employee, and Jamie's the kind of guy he is, so if Adam wants it he should say so, but he can't quite make himself do it.  
*

Jamie wants Adam. The thought ambushes him one morning when he gets out of the shower, and he's so distracted that he wrenches the faucet right out of its valve shift as he's brushing his teeth. There's an awful metallic noise and water sprays up into the air. He bites the inside of his cheek in frustration, before he remembers that he owns his own house now, he doesn't have a deposit to lose this time. It's okay. He can fix it later. He fills a plastic basin from the fountaining jet, and shuts off the water at the mains before making his coffee, rinsing the cup and brushing his teeth from the reserved water. He's distracted all day, all week, a sort of electricity crackling under his skin, roiling in his stomach. He cracks a mug with his hand in the shop, snaps a pen between his fingers, and he thinks about Adam all the time, and it makes him feel angry and hot, uncomfortable inside his skin. He's good at working with different materials because he has to think so hard about everything he touches, but now he feels that he's totally lost his grip on everything it took so long to learn when he moved away from where the ground was hard and cold for four months of the year and everything was made of stone. He doesn't know how he and Adam would interact; as materials, he could look up their relative tensile strength, temperature differentials, conductivity, behaviours in heat and cold, but he doesn't have the data, Jamie screws everything up, and Adam is his employee anyway. 

"What is _up_ with you?" Scottie says at last, when Jamie swears under his breath at the plastic moulding machine, where the button has stuck because he jabbed it too hard. "You're not normally this jumpy."

She eyes him, and Jamie steps back to let her close. She jiggles the button with her small fingers and it pops out.

"What's got you so hot under the collar? Are you okay?"

Jamie sighs, pulls off his beret and rubs the back of his head.

"I'm distracted."

"Yeah, that's clear." Scottie's looking at him funny. At that moment, Adam walks in. Jamie knows it's him before he turns, but he turns anyway to look, he can't stop himself.

"Hi!" says Adam, grinning, even though he's only been gone like half an hour. Jamie smiles back, happiness blooming in his chest.

"Oh my god," Scottie mutters under her breath. "Get a fucking room."

Jamie flushes, all over his face and down his neck. He can feel the back of his neck prickling for twenty minutes afterwards. 

*

Adam comes up behind Jamie as he's cleaning up his desk, and makes Jamie jump. He'd thought everyone had gone home.

"Hey," Adam says.

"Hey," says Jamie.

"Um," says Adam. "You want to, um, have dinner with me? We could go get pizza at Sandy's or something."

"They make the pizza too hot there," Jamie says, before he can think of anything else. "It burns my mouth."

There's a pause.

"I guess we can never make out, then." Adam laughs, but it sounds a little weird. Jamie looks at him quickly, but Adam isn't looking at him, and Jamie can't work out what his face means. His heart is beating fast, and his mouth feels dry.

"We could," he says. "I could wear an ice pack, or something. Or if we kept it quick. Took breaks. Like drinking coffee."

Adam does laugh, then. "I have only ever seen you drink your coffee iced."

"You haven't known me that long," Jamie says. He meets Adam's eyes, just for a second, then looks down again. "I like it hot sometimes." It sounds silly, out loud. Jamie can feel his face flushing, a dull heat.

"Jamie, can - can I kiss you?" Adam says. His voice is shaking a little. Jamie's never heard him stammer before. It makes something twist and pull in his chest.

"Yeah," says Jamie, but he's the one that kisses Adam, pushes him up against the edge of the workbench and presses their mouths together. He feels more than hears Adam's intake of breath through his nose. Adam's mouth is hot, hotter than he expected; it is actually kind of like drinking hot coffee, sort of dangerous-feeling and exciting and just on the edge of painful, pressing on Jamie's nerves. When Adam makes a noise against his lips, it sends a low, hungry thrill through him, and he reaches up and cups the back of Adam's head to press him closer, get more of his hot tongue licking into Jamie's mouth. Even his hair is warm, and silky between his fingers. Then Adam pulls back and gasps, and his breath is steam.

"Fuck," he laughs. Jamie feels him shiver against his hand, but he doesn't move it away. "It's like having cold water poured down my neck."

"You want to stop yet?" He can feel himself smiling, he can't help it, he's reflecting Adam's grin, like they're getting away with something amazing. He feels warmth in the pit of his stomach, his mouth is tingling.

"No," Adam says, and swallows. "But maybe -"

He takes off his own steamed-up glasses, and then, carefully, Jamie's. Then he pulls Jamie's hand down to the workbench, so his palms are resting either side of his hips, bracketing him, holding him in.

"You like this?" says Jamie.

"I like big guys, so sue me," Adam says. Jamie's stomach takes an unpleasant dip, but Adam's smiling up at Jamie like this is the best thing ever, and Jamie pushes the feeling aside. Adam's ears look kind of red. Jamie licks one of them, and Adam squawks and jerks away laughing, but Jamie's got him pinned now, and arousal is a steady thrum in his belly as he deliberately kisses Adam again, drinks in his heat and makes him take his cold, until they're almost the same temperature in all the places they're touching - their mouths, their hands, Adam's waist, Jamie's shoulders.

Finally, Adam pulls back again. "Okay, break time," he gasps. He's shivering in earnest now, Jamie realizes, and it sends a deep, dark thrill running through him that he doesn't quite like, or understand. At the same time, as he comes back to himself, he finds that he's feeling dizzy and overheated.

"Yeah, okay," he says, and forces his fingers to loosen from Adam's shirt. They stand awkwardly for a moment, breathing hard, then Adam laughs and ducks under Jamie's arm, headed for the kitchen.

*

They sit in the kitchen, several feet apart, Adam with his hands wrapped around a hot cup of coffee and a blanket over his shoulders, Jamie sipping iced water with an ice pack against his lower back. Adam's still hard, and he can see Jamie is too. He can't take his eyes off him. Fuck, he wants him. This is so ridiculous.

"Are we doing something really stupid?" he says finally. "I mean, is this likely to actually result in our injury if we pursue this?"

Jamie shrugs, his eyes bright over the rim of his glass.

"Only one way to find out."

"I'm making a valiant attempt not to think with my dick right now," Adam says, trying to school his own grin. "Come on. I'm serious."

Jamie stands up a little straighter and obviously makes an effort to think. Adam's flattered. "Well," he says. "Well, we could do tests. Take it slowly."

"Yeah," Adam says slowly. A thought strikes him, and he starts to giggle. "You want to stress-test our bodies? For science?"

"It wouldn't be like that," Jamie says, eyes quiet behind his glasses, and Adam feels a little bad. 

"No, it’s a good idea, it's just – it's just funny. Hey, you want to go get that pizza? Or something else?"

"No," Jamie says, and the deliberation in his voice makes Adam's stomach flip. "Let's go back to my place."

"You got it," Adam says, and hops off the kitchen counter and shrugs off the blanket. 

They get in Jamie's pick-up, but then Jamie sits back and doesn't turn the keys. "Uh, actually," he says, "there's no water at my place."

"We can pick some up on the way, if you want some," Adam says, a little confused, tapping his feet on the floor. He's warm now, warm all over.

"No, I mean," Jamie says, rubbing the keys in his hand, "I shut the water off. I broke a faucet."

"Oh," says Adam. "Well, we can go back to my place, that's no problem. You want to pick up some pizza on the way?"

"Doesn't sound like I have a choice," Jamie says, his mouth twitching under his moustache.

They pick up a bag of ice, too, just in case.

*

"Does that happen to you often? Breaking things, I mean," Adam says, to distract himself from the smell of the pizza from the warm boxes on his lap. Jamie won't let him eat it in the pick-up, because of the grease.

"Yeah, I guess," says Jamie. He looks sidelong at Adam. "I've been distracted."

Adam shifts in his seat. "Can you drive faster?"

"No," says Jamie. He sounds like he's laughing.

*

The door closes behind them quietly. Adam's apartment feels cool to him, although it probably feels warm to Jamie. He leaves the heating off during the day to save money, turns it up at night. He leaves it off for now. 

"You want to eat now?" Jamie says. His voice sounds rough, and Adam shivers as his finger brushes the back of his neck.

"No. Yes. Um. I think I have to," Adam says apologetically. He's taken lust over hunger before but he has a feeling it wouldn't be smart in this case.

"You should stay warm," Jamie says. "Go eat."

He prowls about the kitchen and small living room while Adam wolfs down two slices of pizza. He looks at Adam's models, at his books, but Adam notices that he's very careful not to touch. He looks huge in the low-ceilinged room. It occurs to Adam to wonder whether his old futon will be big enough for Jamie, and then that leads him to thinking about how big Jamie is in a more general way. He eats his pizza a little faster.

When he takes his empty plate to the kitchen counter to stack on top of all the other dirty plates, he turns around and Jamie's right behind him.

"You done?" Jamie says.

"Yeah," Adam says, grinning. "You can make out with me now."

Jamie's hesitant at first, but Adam tugs him back until he's crowded against the kitchen counter, and it's as hot as it was in the shop, arousal thrumming through Adam as Jamie's strong, cool mouth opens him up. The cold is weird, different, it makes Jamie seem somehow more solid and real against him. Adam likes it. When his neck starts to get a crick, Adam tries to hop up onto the sideboard and his tail knocks a pile of plates into the sink with a crash. Jamie makes an exasperated noise, then grabs Adam's ass, pulls him flush against his hips and lifts him like he weighs nothing. He's surprisingly gentle, but shock and arousal still drives all the air out of Adam's lungs.

"Holy shit," Adam half laughs, half moans, as Jamie carries him through the living room, then yelping as Jamie bumps his shoulder against the doorframe on the way through and he catches his tail on a table.

"Sorry," Jamie mutters, adjusting his grip on Adam, and one of his hands slips up under Adam's shirt, like cold water against his bare back. "Where's your damn bedroom?"

Adam gestures over his shoulder, then clings to Jamie, giggling helplessly as they nearly knock over a bookcase and a lamp in their progress through his door. He's going to have bruises all over him tomorrow and he doesn't even care. Jamie dumps him unceremoniously on the futon when they get there, then stands there awkwardly. 

"Are you okay?" he says.

"What?" Adam says, "Are you kidding, I'm fine. Get down here."

Jamie drops down onto his knees so fast Adam's flattered, but he still hesitates before touching Adam. "I'm sorry about your lamp. I'll get you another one."

"Hey," Adam says, feeling bad for teasing him. He stops laughing, and reaches over to Jamie, touches his shoulder. "I – listen, maybe I haven't made this clear, but I kind of like it rough. You don't need to worry."

He shuffles over so he can meet Jamie's eyes.

"I don't want to hurt you," Jamie mutters. "I get clumsy. When I'm."

"It's okay," Adam repeats. "Jamie. Really." Something tugs in his chest, and he tries harder. "We'll take it slowly, and if something doesn't work, I'll tell you, and we'll stop, okay? And –" he stumbles over his words, "Listen, are you sure you want to do this? Because actually I probably should have said this before but my track record with, um, with relationships or whatever really sucks, not that this is necessarily a relationship, we haven't talked about that yet, but it's kind of more likely that I'm going to hurt you."

Jamie looks away and shrugs. "So then we'll stop," he says, but he reaches out and grabs Adam's hand, rubs his palm with his callused thumb. "But I don't want to do that."

"Me either," Adam says, with relief. "Okay, so we're done freaking out?" He stretches back with his arms above his head and tries to look sexy. Jamie breaks into a smile, and Adam's chest loosens with relief. The asbestos topsheet crackles under him as he poses, and Jamie snorts.

"So," Adam says, "You want to suck me off?"

"I want to fuck you," Jamie says. His voice is low and hoarse, and Jesus, Adam thinks, his mouth dry, he's in way over his head.

"Yes," he says quickly. "Okay. Yes. Let's do that. Wait, I have –"

He pulls the lube and his single optimistic condom out from under the futon and sets it on the floor, then they're fumbling and kissing and pulling off their t-shirts, and Adam gropes Jamie through his jeans and grins when Jamie stiffens and stills, drawing in a sharp breath. 

"Yeah?" he breathes, kneading Jamie's dick just a little through the denim. He feels pretty big, but not, like, unmanageably enormous. The nervous heat in his stomach dials up a notch even as he's a little relieved. 

"Yeah," Jamie says, and swallows. There's a high flush on his cheeks which Adam finds kind of adorable. He goes to remove Jamie's glasses, but Jamie shies back. "I'll keep them on," he mutters. "Need to see what I'm doing." He looks over at the lube. "Do you want, um."

Adam grabs it before he can. "I'll do it," he says. "How about you, um, make yourself comfortable." He immediately feels stupid. "And by comfortable I mean naked, obviously." Jamie snorts, and as soon as Adam's turned his back he hears him start to unbutton his shirt.

Adam preps himself in the bathroom hard and fast, washing quickly and then stroking the lube up inside himself, one leg up on the edge of the bathtub and his tail braced against the wall, scissoring his fingers as best he can without cramping his wrist. He thinks about running his fingers under the cold tap first but decides not to, that he needs to save his heat. Besides, he kind of likes the idea of the shock of Jamie inside him, how hot he'll feel. He's so turned on that his hands are trembling, and he nearly drops the lube into the bath. 

"I'm gonna keep my t-shirt on, okay?" he yells out of the door. "I think it'll be warmer." He doesn't hear Jamie's response, but he washes his hands quickly and scurries across the apartment back to the bed, the air cool on his wet inner thighs. Then it occurs to him that it's probably warmer in the apartment than in his bed right now, but he already feels like a dork, so whatever. Jamie's pushed the covers back but he's got one sheet primly pulled up to his chin. His clothes are folded on the chair, and his glasses are neatly placed on top of them. Adam can't help sniggering even as he enjoys the sight of Jamie's bare shoulders and his pretty obvious erection tenting the sheet.

"Do I actually get to see anything, or you want to put a blindfold on me?" he asks, nearly tripping over the sheets as he scrambles onto the futon over Jamie, who has, of course, taken the nearest side of the futon.

"Maybe next time," Jamie says, rising up effortlessly under Adam's weight. "Come under here."

*

They're both naked now, touching in short bursts, Adam's hands skating over Jamie's body like he can't stop, and arousal is pooling heavy in Jamie's groin. Adam's tail is a little distracting at first, stroking against his leg and tickling the back of his knee, but pretty soon it settles in and wraps around his calf, and he forgets it's there. Adam's hot and writhing under his hands, like molten iron. It's not like it's been with other people; Jamie gets caught up in Adam's breathy laughs and his moans and yelps, so that he forgets to be awkward. He holds himself up over Adam and kisses him some more, sucking on his tongue, dizzy with it, as Adam whispers between kisses, "Your moustache really tickles, man," and, "Fuck, you're freezing," and "You can put some more weight on me, I don't mind." 

"Are you going to complain the whole time?" Jamie asks, caught between amusement, arousal and irritation, but he does let Adam take just a little more of his weight, but Adam's breath rushes out so fast that he catches himself, alarmed.

"No," Adam croaks. "That's good. Seriously. I like it."

This time he groans as Jamie holds him down with his body again, and bucks up against him, maybe involuntarily. His dick rubs hotly against Jamie's thigh.

"Fuck!" Adam gasps. "Okay, okay, come on," and he's wriggling out from under Jamie again and turning over. His tail thrashes between them, curling and uncurling against Jamie's hip.

"Maybe it would be better if you, um," Jamie says, sitting back on his legs. "Go on top."

Adam hesitates. "Hmm," he says. "Okay, sure." He looks kind of mournful, but he switches positions with Jamie easily enough, and Jamie realizes, with warmth blooming in his chest, that Adam's trying to make Jamie feel more comfortable. 

"Thanks," Jamie says. "We can try it this way first," and Adam grins, lopsided and sweet.

*

The first touch of Jamie's cock against his hole makes him jump, and he has to prepare himself for the temperature difference before he tries again. He lines them up and bears down a little, and Jamie's eyes fall closed. The stretch isn't painful, with all the lube, and the condom acts as an insulator to a certain extent, but it still feels so intense as he presses down, the cold making him feel fuller, tighter.

"Oh, god," he groans. "Fuck, Jamie."

"That feel okay?" Jamie says. His hands are resting on Adam's hips, and he's looking up at him again, but his eyes are hooded, and he's breathing hard. His voice sounds taut. Adam presses the rest of the way down until he's filled up with Jamie's cock, achingly full, the cold reaching up inside him like something sentient, like it wants to pull his insides out. It feels dangerous, frightening for a second, then Jamie shifts beneath him, and the slight movement sends reverberations of excitement up his spine.

"I think so, yeah," he gasps, and rolls his hips. Jamie breathes in sharply again, and Adam wonders, dazed, what it would take to make him noisy. He rocks back and forth, getting comfortable, and finally slides up Jamie's cock and down again, fucking himself on Jamie, his thighs burning with the effort as he tries to find the best angle. Jamie feels huge inside him, the cold making Adam more aware of him as an invader, an undeniable foreign body pushing up into Adam's. His skin is prickling and his breath is coming fast, excitement and terror squeezing at his chest. His own dick has softened, but as he finds a good angle and Jamie's cock begins to brush against his prostate as he rides him, it hardens again, and Adam starts to get noisier, moaning with every thrust. Jamie's still silent beneath him, though, and he feels suddenly disconnected and lost, so he opens his eyes and looks down. Jamie's flushed and sweating, frowning a little in concentration as he helps guide Adam's hips up and down, his chest rippling with effort.

"How does it feel?" Adam says, suddenly desperate. "Tell me how it feels, does it feel good?"

"What do you think?" Jamie grits out, then lets out a startled grunt as Adam speeds up suddenly.

"Come on," Adam gasps, "Talk to me."

"It's good," Jamie says, "It feels – hot, it feels – Adam –"

He arches back suddenly and closes his eyes, biting his lip, and Adam watches, enraptured. He thinks Jamie's going to come, but he doesn't, just rolls his hips up again, so that Adam is suddenly, gloriously out of control, holding on for dear life as Jamie fucks him from underneath with uncontrolled, powerful strokes, and by now Adam isn't even conscious of the cold anymore, it's just an intensity, an edge like pain twisting up inside him with the pleasure. Jamie's thumbs are digging bruises into his hips, and suddenly it isn't enough, he wants that strength above him, around him.

"Jamie, Jamie, I want to go underneath, can you, please –"

"Yeah," gasps Jamie, "Okay –"

Jamie doesn't even pull out, just rolls them over, and suddenly he's on top and even deeper inside Adam, so that Adam doesn't have any words, just gulps down breath and groans and clutches at him as his body adjusts to the intrusion, writhing to stop his tail from getting crushed underneath them. Jamie's holding himself still with brittle restraint that brings Adam even closer to the edge, and when he finally finds the words to say, "Yeah, yeah, go," and Jamie starts to fuck him, he starts to come without even touching his dick, crying out and hearing his voice crack as he spills onto Jamie's stomach, shuddering with pleasure again and again. Jamie whispers something he can't hear through the roaring in his ears, gathers him up and fucks him hard and fast and with such deliberation that Adam's orgasm seems to start up again in the middle, aftershocks ramping up almost to the point of pain until he's actually whimpering, hears noises coming out of his mouth that he's never heard, and he feels it when Jamie starts to come, shaking silently against Adam with a few short, abortive gasps. 

*

Adam's hot and overwhelming around him, and Jamie almost can't stand it when he's wrapped around his cock, friction like hot silk. His whole body is wound so tight it aches by the time Adam twists under him and moans brokenly and comes, his semen scalding Jamie's belly as Jamie holds him, awed. Then Adam turns to boneless, liquid heat in Jamie's arms and for a few seconds Jamie just lets himself take, greedy and unrestrained, and when he comes he feels like he's dying. 

*

"Ngh," Adam says, and unfolds himself with a wince as Jamie picks himself up and pulls out of him, holding the condom carefully. He stretches out and lies flat on the futon. His whole body is tingly, still ringing like a bell. "I feel like I've been hit by a train," he slurs. "A sex train."

Jamie huffs a laugh and cleans up silently, moving around him, and Adam maybe falls a sleep for a second, because when he opens his eyes he's been cleaned up and he's at least partially under the rumpled and tangled covers, Jamie on top of them, wearing his boxer shorts. Jamie strokes his hair, and then his throat. He's smiling, looser and sweeter than Adam's ever seen him.

"Hi," says Adam, grinning goofily up at him. "That was awesome."

"I've never fucked someone unconscious before," Jamie says. His voice sounds rusty, intimate. A pleased little shiver runs down Adam's spine, mingling with the sore, glowing feeling he gets after really good sex. 

"That always –" Adam yawns "- happens to me. Not to rain on your parade." He wriggles sleepily, enjoying the ache in his hips and ass. His tail twitches under the sheets.

"Can I," Jamie says, looking at him, and Adam blinks muzzily. Jamie is weirdly diffident, given that they've just had sex. Adam realizes that he hasn't actually touched his tail yet. It's usually the first thing people do.

"Sure," he says. Jamie strokes his finger delicately down Adam's tail, watching his face. It feels nice. Adam smiles sleepily, and stretches again, and his tail wraps around Jamie's wrist. Jamie laughs softly.

"I don't have all that much control over it," Adam says apologetically, but Jamie's stroking him again, and he finds he can't muster that much concern. He rolls over. "The base feels nice," he murmurs, and Jamie, obliging, scratches his back where his tail meets the base of his spine and the soft hairs begin, and Adam feels like purring.

Adam rides the euphoria for a while, but pretty soon he starts to feel cold, and at about the same time Jamie starts to look a little grey, so he pulls himself up, wincing, and tugs on some sweatpants. His t-shirt is damp and clammy by now, so he tugs on a fresh one. Jamie watches him from the bed, his hands behind his head. He's got his boxers on already, Adam notices. He thinks back again to what Scottie said about Jamie, about taking care of him, and feels a tug of tenderness.

"You okay?" he says, "You want a cold drink? Or a shower?"

"Yeah," Jamie says, "A drink."

He stands in the open fridge door in his boxers, leaning into the cold, and holds a can of coke against the base of his neck as Adam pours his own into a mug to heat up in the microwave. Jamie looks at him.

"What? It's good. You should try it."

"I'll pass," Jamie says, his lips pursed and his eyes crinkling. Adam kind of wants to kiss him again.

*

"So," Adam says, hands wrapped around his steaming mug. Jamie can't believe he's drinking coke hot. He's pretty sure it isn't normal. "That went well."

Jamie can't help smiling. "Yeah, it was good."

"We can do it again, right?"

"Sure." Jamie hesitates. "But not at work."

"Aw," Adam says, grinning.

"We'd probably break something," Jamie says ruefully, looking around Adam's apartment. The bookshelves will need remounting, which will be easy enough, but the lamp will need replacing. It could have been worse, he guesses. "I get through enough door-handles already."

"You know," Adam says, with an odd look on his face, "For someone who's all about equal opportunities and access and shit, you really don't practice what you preach about yourself."

"What?"

"Why don't you just put in motion-activated doors? Or, I don't know, buttons, for Christ's sake? Why do we even need doors? We don't need doors. I'll take them down for you on Monday."

"Oh," says Jamie, speechless.

"You're as important as the rest of us," Adam says. "You're important, Jamie. You're –" he hesitates, and tugs at the frayed sleeve of his sweater. "You're allowed to need stuff. You don't always have to protect everyone else all the time."

Jamie crosses the kitchen and kisses him, gently at first, then letting himself go a little, pushing Adam back against the counter. Adam moans breathily against him, and Jamie smiles against his neck.

"I don't need doors either," Adam murmurs into his ear. "Just so you know."

"Okay," Jamie says, and kisses him again.

*

Grant installs motion sensors on the doors they decide they need, and for the flushes and faucets in the bathroom, and Adam customizes for him a steampunk-style hip flask so he can drink his blood at work in the breakroom without feeling weird about it. Grant swaps workbenches with Scottie so she and Adam are next to each other, and sets up a souped-up space heater between them for when they're working in the shop. All of them together build a rig that allows Jamie to open the fridge by pushing a heavy-duty button, while everyone else can just pull the door open. Scottie takes the lathe outside, strips down to a bathing suit and turns into a dragon. She welds a stiff handle next to the shutoff button which will wire up to the same circuits, while Tory assists, half watching for the cops, half moving stuff around for her, until Jamie tells him to put on some damn pants before he catches fire again. Kari brings in her baby to meet them all, and Jamie holds her in the special padded brace Adam made, cradling her warm against his shoulder, smiling, and everything goes fine.


End file.
